Community, Part 1

This is the first part of a two-part series on the notion of “community.” I’ve come across a couple of examples in the last week so this topic is on my mind.

I listened to “The Other People” podcast with author Susan Straight, which made me think differently about “community.”

Straight, the author of Between Heaven and Here, talked mostly about her town of Riverside, California. I don’t know much about Riverside, only that it’s near Los Angeles. I will admit that as a lifelong Midwestern girl, I lump everything in southern California in with Los Angeles. And when I think of Los Angeles, I think of a migrant-type of population, people who have come from other parts of the country or world, chasing the glitz and glamour that L.A. promises.

Straight’s interview with Brad Listi was so enlightening because the way she talked about Riverside reminded me of my hometown of Waseca, Minnesota, and my long tenure in nearby Mankato. She talked of going to the drugstore and seeing people she’s known since she was five years old. She talked about neighbors and relatives who pulse through her house night and day. She’s so never alone that she has to write her books in her car. She talked about going to a high school football game where her daughter was homecoming princess and all the relatives that showed up.

I just didn’t picture this type of life on the fringes of L.A. But I’m grateful it happens. I think of Straight’s daughters and how fortunate they are that they grew up surrounded by friends and relatives. I believe it does take a village to raise a child. A vast network of friends and relatives can prop us up.

I went to the mall on Friday night and spent a great deal of time talking to:

A teacher/coach who plays in my fantasy football league

The guy who owns a local music store

A former student of mine

What was intended as a quick trip to the mall took a couple of hours. But after working at home all day and not seeing a soul, the conversations were refreshing.

Does this describe your community? If not, do you miss the small-town atmosphere, the offhand connections that can happen when you go out in public?

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10 thoughts on “Community, Part 1”

My family and friends give me such a hard time because I run into so many people I know, even in neighboring towns. I do love it unless I look like dog poop! HA! It’ll be weird to start again in a new town someday. But here’s the thing–if you make the choice to get out and attend events, join a book club, etc., then you’ll get to know people. If you want to stay alone, then you make the choice to avoid hometown events, maybe even go to another town for things, like my friend kept doing when she lived in my town. Then she had the gall to say she didn’t know anyone in town!

I’m still near my hometown, but I try to avoid places where I’ll recognize people. I think that if I was in a strange place I would miss the sense of familiarity. I suppose that’s why I haven’t decided to start over in a new city.

I often waffle between wanting to see people and wanting some privacy. Some days I don’t mind the social aspects, but other days I just want to be alone. I suppose everyone goes through that no matter where they live. There’s a lot to be said for familiarity!

I don’t currently have the community I formerly had in my home town. I don’t have the kind of connections I found in various places I’ve lived, and it’s not for lack of trying. Do I miss it? I’ve been telling myself I don’t. Right now, I like my anonymity. But mostly, it feels weird to the point of feeling “wrong,” to live in a place where I feel absolutely no sense of community.

It’s just not very important to me right at the moment. But I’m aware that it IS important, for the long haul, to feel connected. And I know I’ll never feel connected here.

To feel comfortable in a community, I would need to feel that this is “home.” I’ve moved around a lot, and home has been many places. I can usually quickly make myself at home wherever I am, but for many reasons I haven’t been able to do that here. Why?

To feel at home I need to feel that the surrounding community has a sense of itself, knows its history, values, traditions and culture. I also need to feel that my neighbors see me as belonging to the community–a citizen, a member.

It’s not that I don’t fit in–it’s that nobody seems to know who fits in and who doesn’t. And it’s not that people aren’t friendly–they are, superficially. But no one seems to really “know” or recognize other people. It’s as if everyone is just passing through on their way to somewhere else.

I don’t know if it’s possible to have community-building trust in a boom-town environment, where there is always, and has been continually, for ten years, a constant influx of “strangers.” Everyone seems wary here. I feel like this pace is in transition, going through a kind of city-adolescence. It has a fluctuating sense of identity right now and it’s difficult to get along with this place, because its moods are so unpredictable and it doesn’t seem to know where its going. Worse, it doesn’t seem to know where its been. I’m having trouble finding a sense of place or history.

I’ve already made up my mind to move someplace else. On the surface, this seemed like a great place. Its economy is good, there’s a university and good medical, low crime rate, and great climate…

But it’s not what I’m looking for, and I’m old enough to know that I can’t give a community a make-over. It’s a lot easier to look for a place that suits me than to try to make one into what something it isn’t. I’ll probably be moving next year.

I think it would be interesting to observe a place where people are just passing through on their way to somewhere else. I would like to observe that, but I don’t think I would want to be part of that community. As you say, it’s about priorities. At the moment I like being rooted and being close to my roots. But perhaps that will change at some point. I’ve never lived in a place where I didn’t know people. Part of me wants to challenge myself and go somewhere new. I’m not sure exactly how I will respond, but I’m willing to try.

I’ve never disliked feeling rooted and close to my roots. But I’ve also enjoying the adventure, and the eye-opening that comes from being a stranger in a strange land (and it’s amazing how foreign another region of our United States can feel). Preference? It’s easier and friendlier to be rooted. Sometimes, however, there are compelling reasons to explore new territory.

I grew up in Colorado Springs, CO, and back then, it was about 350,000 (now I think it’s closer to half a million). There are perks to living in a community like that–for example, not everyone knows your business. But then I grew up on the north end, so that area was kind of like its own little town. I swore I’d never live in a town smaller than 100,000, but then my husband got a job in Le Sueur. I think that population back then was between 1,000 and 3,000. Ha! That was too small for me. Now I live in Faribault. It’s about 25,000, and I like the size. It’s small enough that I still see people I’ve never seen before at Walmart and the grocery store, but I still have connections like you, Rachael, when I spend time talking to someone I haven’t seen awhile (which just happened to me at Walmart last week). I also like its proximity to the Twin Cities (about 45 minutes away). What’s also cool about Faribault, I think, is its diversity. For a small town, I think it’s pretty cool for my kids to know what the real world will be like with people who are so different.

The towns in this area are definitely different in terms of diverse populations than 20, 30 years ago when I was growing up in a small southern Minnesota town. I’m glad kids are getting exposure to what it means to live in a global society. If they can learn to navigate cultural differences and customs while they are young, it won’t be such a problem when they get older.